


A Game of Cards

by Mythalenaste



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Crack, Humour, Solavellan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-23
Updated: 2015-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-25 09:21:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3805126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mythalenaste/pseuds/Mythalenaste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A game of cards…Solavellan style. Also, a partial rendition of the Tevinter National Anthem with a small study in Orlesian small clothes. And the obligatory ‘swooping is bad’ joke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Game of Cards

_"Here's to alcohol, the rose colored glasses of life."_   
**— F. Scott Fitzgerald**

* * *

 

“Solas.” There was something oddly sing song about the Lavellan’s voice as she rounded the corner, gripping the doorframe and swinging herself into the rotunda in a lacksadaisacal manner.

“Vhenan?”

She’d departed several hours earlier with Varric when the words ‘Wicked Grace’ and ‘just a few drinks’ had been used to coax her away from where she’d been seated at the edge of his desk, reading to him as he painted. It had taken quite a great deal of pushing and shoving and whining from Dorian and the dwarf but in the end, Cole’s uncertainty in the face of a game of cards had been what persuaded her.  Had he been willing to join them in their game he was certain she would have needed no further encouragement but his reluctance had made her delay, imploring him to join them for a round. When he finally made it clear that he was quite happy painting, she’d grudgingly allowed herself to be dragged away…but not before pecking him on the cheek and tapping the tip of his nose with her fingertip in a move so quick and so mischievous she’d been out the door before he could react.

It was easy to forget sometimes how deftly Lavellan could switch from astute scholar to dashing rogue. Currently, she was somewhere between dashing rogue and drunken lout. The latter was something to be approached with caution…he doubted she was actually as drunk as she currently appeared. And she appeared…tempting. Too tempting for it to have been entirely accidental. There were spots of hectic red across her high cheekbones, from exhilaration or the cold or drink he couldn’t be sure. Her slim, supple body leaning tantalizingly against the doorframe, her arms crossed and a wicked smile on her lips. Her breach green eyes were bright with merriment and challenge and lustful intensity as she looked him up and down with blatant interest…hmm, maybe a little drunker than he’d expected…  

“The one and only, most skillful and clever of all the hearts, Herald of Merciless cunning-”

“Tiny elf of cider breath,” Dorian’s rich voice sang out from behind her as he pushed clumsily past, Lavellan shooting him a grin as she held onto the doorframe to keep herself steady. “Ah, Solas! I shall give her over to your care. Did you know your tiny sweetheart cheats at cards? She’s worse than me, even. Took Varric for all he was worth, rigged a game to let Cole win, played the clothes off both Blackwall and Cullen in one foul swoop-”

“No, don’t say ‘swoop’.” Lavellan made a soaring gesture with one hand that nearly unbalanced her. “ ‘Swooping’ is what dragons and ambushes do. Also Josephine…swooped in, stole my victory. Swooping is bad.”

    Dorian let out a careless giggle snort, making a vague waving gesture at her as he made his stumbling progress up the stairs. She watched him go, leaning slightly as she gripped the scaffolding before looking back at Solas with a grin that could have rivaled Sera’s.   
“I take it you enjoyed yourself?”

“Thoroughly. Being young and careless and beautiful is a wonderful thing.” She approached him where he sat at his desk, pouring over a useless tome full human propoganda about the Dalish. He watched her graceful steps, smooth and dextrous and clearly for his benefit. Mhm, vhenan, your pride gives you away. Not drunk, not even a little. She slapped a deck of cards he hadn’t been aware she was holding down on the desk between them. He met her challenging gaze with a raised eyebrow. “You should play cards with me, ma lath.”

“You cheat.” He tried to keep his voice stern instead of appreciative and failed utterly, glancing down at the deck of cards and steeling himself to refuse her request. He would outplay her easily and he could never bring himself to allow someone to win out of pity. Nor did he think she would miss such a gesture for what it was…Lavellan made a cross noise and seated herself on the edge of his desk, lean figure on display and tantalizingly close.

“I achieve the outcome I wish. I use my superior skill and cunning to turn the tide of the game in the direction that most benefits all parties…or whichever entertains me. Really, ‘cheating’ is such an ugly word.” She nudged the deck towards him insistently and he found himself unable to keep the smile from his face at her words.

“What would you call it, then?”

“Winning by unconventional stratagem, I think. Now come on, Solas. You can’t be grumpy and old all the time. And don’t even try and tell me you don’t know how to play Diamondback, Blackwall taught you.”

“Ma vehnan-” She rolled her eyes and sighed, throwing herself across his desk dramatically.

“Or maybe I’m too intimidating, who knows? I am awfully good at cards…”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Dorian-”

“She certainly has!” Came an indignant squawk from the general region of the rafters. “Maker’s breath, Solas! Take the beautiful woman to bed or at the very least play a harmless game of cards. Your spirits won’t love you any less in the morning I assure you-”

“Dorian! You were supposed to be going to bed!” Solas’ own irritation was eclipsed by the sight of Lavellan’s scandalized expression as she fixed the balcony with an accusatory glare. There was a snuffling, somewhat strangled chuckling sound and a thump.

“Oh yes, put the children to bed why don’t you-”

“Dorian!” Lavellan’s ear tips turned pink and her tone changed from one of indignant upset to mortification.

“Well, I can’t help it. I was on my way to my chambers and I fell over! Besides, I do love my nightly dose of romantic elven dinner theatre but I have to admit that the lack of climax is wearing on me-”

“Dorian…” Lavellan hid her face in her hands and surprised a chuckle out of Solas.

“Oh don’t you laugh, Mr Hobo Elf. You stay here and I swear on every bloody god there ever was that I will serenade your keen elven ears with the Imperium’s National Anthem until dawn. Don’t believe me? Ahem: _In Magicae Potens-_!”

    Lavellan shot Solas a look of triumph as he felt the trap close around him. He would not be at all surprised to learn that this…somewhat embarrassing interjection by the Tevinter mage had been planned between them. In truth, he was somewhat impressed by the elaborate plan. And was it really a trap if he fell into it with a willingly?

“ _Gens ferox et fortis et verus Sanguis nobilium populae ex Imperio-_!” The vibrato accompanying the tevene word for Imperium was nicely juxtaposed by Lavellan shuffling the deck of cards expectantly. Solas heaved a tremendous sigh and steepled his fingers in an attempt not to lose his composure completely. His smile was unavoidable and irrepressible, however. His clever, devious, beautiful vhenan.

“Very well, vhenan. Though no game of Diamondback is played without price.” She will have her game, but it will be on my terms. The anticipation of a competitive game of cards had all of his old lusts and appetites stirring. The answering fervor in her own gaze made his blood run hot.

“Name your price, ma sa’lath.”

“When I win, you allow me to teach you every rule and rhyme of the true game and never cheat again whilst playing with any of our companions.” Lavellan grinned devilishly and stretched with the easy confidence of a cat who’s cornered a mouse. Oh ma vhenan, you know not what you do to me. Which was good, if she had, he did not think he’d be able to resist her.

“ ‘When’, lethallin? Pride cometh before a fall. I agree to your terms, if you win.” She answered reaching out to stroke the side of his face with one lovely, delicate hand. Her mark sent a shudder through him, the barest hint of the Fade at the edge of his awareness at her gentle touch.

“Oh kiss already, damn you! I’ve forgotten the fifth verse so I’ll have to make it up…where was I? Oh Something something _de corrupti regimenos gloriam_ -”

“When I win-” Lavellan soldiered on despite Dorian’s interruption. “You teach me an ancient elven card game…or something similar-”

“What? No strip tease out of that hideous neutral pjama outfit? Come now, Inquisitor! Get creative-” Both he and Lavellan groaned in unison at the continued interruptions. “Oh, and take this!”

    Lavellan suddenly launched Solas’ desk, lunging for an object thrown into their vicinity. It made a soft liquid thunk as she caught it and landed on the balls of her feet, turning the bottle to view the label and casting the eaves a disparaging look.

“Dorian, do you need an escort to your bedchamber?”

“Not as much as you do.” Came the obnoxiously snorted reply.

“Let us adjourn to your chambers, lethallan. I fear Dorian was earnest in his wish to harry us until we depart.” Solas cast the empty balcony such a glare of ferocious disdain the wood railing should have lit itself on fire.

“Oh FINALLY! Both of you two have fun doing whatever it is elves do…comparing the pointy-ness of each other’s ears, hopefully some elvhen frolicking…oh the endless amorous possibilities!”

* * *

 

“Now you’re cheating!”  
“You cannot cheat at a game that doesn’t have formally recognized rules.” He replied simply, surveying the game table with an air of nonchalance. It was a mess, to be honest. A combination of Diamondback, Ruse and Wicked Grace played simultaneously and to best effect when slightly inebriated. Lavellan stared at a Ruse piece in disgust, then looked at her hand again.

“Well it doesn’t matter because I’m winning. Cede your southernmost outpost to me and draw three cards.” Solas glanced down at the game board, surprised by the swift attack on his flank that he hadn’t expected. Ruse was a complicated game with a wide range of tactics, most fairly straightforward. But she threw away pieces with a wild and foolhardy abandon that had made him underestimate how cunningly she was actually sacrificing forces to get ahead.

“Wha-how?” He demanded, staring furiously at the game board and then glowering back up at her. “That move should have been impossible-”

“Should have, could have, would have. Take off your tunic, Solas.” His glare lasted one moment more before her cheeky smirk won out. With an irritated noise, he slapped down his hand on the surface of her desk and stripped out of his tunic, pulling it off over his head and folding in neatly before setting it aside. He noticed her amused expression and sighed.

“What?”

“You’re folding your-?”

“ Not all of us fling our clothes around our room with savage abandon, vehnan.” Her own tunic had spent a brief moment airborn before landing somewhere behind her. She was sitting across from him, perched on the edge of her seat and clad only in her breeches and breast band. The thin, lacy fabric of the flimsy undergarment left just enough to the imagination that it peaked curiousity. The Orlesians had many faults, but their tailors did produce small clothes that were superior in form…if not in function. He could not see the delicate fabric holding up against a passionate amorous encounter, let alone beneath any sort of armor she might wear.

“You could fling my clothes around my room with savage abandon if you wanted to, you know.” Lavellan toyed with a bit of lace, using her cards to hide a self-satisfied smirk that showed in her eyes.

“Mhmm. A tempting offer, vhenan. Three serpents says you must clothe yourself once more.” He spread his winning hand out for her perusal, grinning smugly as she cast him a furious look.

“Wha-that isn’t how it goes if you start losing, Solas! And if you win, that means you drink.”

“You lost on purpose. For catching you, I dictate the terms of your punishment.”

“Fine.” Quicker than he’d thought possible, the tunic he’d neatly folded beside him was snatched up. Lavellan slipped it over her head, sliding her delicate arms through the sleeves and rolling them up so she could reach her cards. The effect was arguably worse than the baring of skin had been. Solas growled low in his throat as he attempted so struggle with several different types of frustration at once. “What? You didn’t say it had to be my tunic. Now, drink.”

“Fenehedis.”

* * *

 

“If you fall asleep, I win.”

“I will not fall asleep, vhenan…it is your turn to drink.”

“I’m keeping your tunic. Spoils of war. And…we’re out of wine.”

“And with this…I win back the board.”

“Dread wolf take me!”

“Don’t tempt fate, vhenan.”

* * *

 

“Where. Is. She?” Cassandra spit, glowering down at the stumbling little maid before her. Lavellan wasn’t usually late to their tactics meetings, much as the Dalish elf tended to abhor them. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She had so far only been late to the ones Cassandra had insisted on her attending. ‘Cheeky irreverence’ was only something that went so far in the Seeker’s book. The Hilarious Herald of Andraste was going to attend the tactics meeting or by the Maker she would drag her out of bed herself, magical breach sealing mark or no.

“Come now, Cass. I’m sure the Herald has a number of excellent reasons for sleeping in. I heard one of my agents say she was up late playing cards with Varric and some of her companions-” Leliana attempted to soothe her friend, a conspiratorial smile playing at the edges of her delicate mouth.

“Cards? I was not invited to a game of cards.” Of course she was up late playing cards…Andraste’s grace that elf will never take anything seriously-

“Which is just as well, she cheats terribly.” Josephine murmured, grinning and adding an extra flourish to something on her scribe board. “Cullen was-”

“Ahem. I did attend, yes. I regret it. We can now move on to less sensitive topics-” The Commander blushed furiously, knocking over a few markers on the map and hurrying to put them back in place as Leliana covered her mouth to stifle her laughter.

“The Inquisitor must be present for this! It is ridiculous to attempt to plan without her insight-” The maid attempted some sort of nervous fidgeting motion and Cassandra rounded on her. “What?”

“I…er…you probably shouldn’t…erm…disturb the Inquisitor because…I..well-”

“Ugh, I will deal with this myself!” Cassandra stormed from the war room with the maid looking miserably after her. Leliana let out a soft giggle and sighed, shaking her head.

“Oh, Cassandra. This will be amusing.”

“Amusing? I hardly think the Inquisitor will enjoy a tongue-lashing from our resident Seeker.” Cullen scoffed, shaking his head. Leliana glanced over at him and grinned a devilish, bardic smile.

“If she even gets the chance. Solas was nowhere to be found this morning.” The spymaster retorted smugly, folding her arms across her chest, cornflower blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

“What? We cannot just let the seeker-” Josephine gasped and shook her head. “Leliana, you are terrible!”

“It will be an excellent lesson for both of them. Cassandra, to take things less seriously and to knock. For Lavellan…the consequences of pushing the Seeker beyond the bounds of her patience. Come, I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

* * *

 

“INQUISITOR! It is past time that you-” Cassandra reached the crest of the stair and was somewhat shocked to find the bed unslept in. She tripped as she walked into the room, toeing aside…was that the Inquisitor’s tunic? That wasn’t…a pair of distinctive taupe breeches was hanging from the back of a chair. The maid clearly hadn’t had a chance to tidy the Inquisitor’s chamber…resisting the urge to bellow ‘LAVELLAN’ to the vaulted ceiling, Cassandra walked swiftly across the room towards a desk covered in cards and game pieces.

“Where in the Maker’s name have…oh.” Oh. Oh. Oh Maker.

    There was a pile of sleeping, partially unclothed elf beneath the desk. The Inquisitor was snuggled up to Solas’ bare chest, kittenish and small in his tunic and belt, long pale legs tangled in the furs spread out across the rug. Her vallas’lin traced face was nuzzled into the hollow between his neck and shoulder, fingers clutching the neck of an empty wine bottle. Solas’ infinitely dignified countenance was marred only by the playing card sticking to his cheek, one arm wrapped possessively around Lavellan’s shoulder. The other was crossed over his chest, a fan of cards resting beneath delicate fingers.

    Cassandra was suddenly acutely aware of how much noise she’d made, how much noise any armor made when attempting to sneak away undetected. Of all the things she had expected to find, ‘cuddling elves’ had not been on the list. There was nothing for it but to flee as quickly and quietly as possible. And possibly, once she escaped, kill Leliana for this…


End file.
